


La Nina

by Jael, pir8grl



Series: Voyages of the Canary [11]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: The crew of The Canary is home for Christmas!





	1. Chapter 1

**Boston, Massachusetts Bay Colony**

Although The Canary traveled the world, most of her crew members were from the colonies, and they were always pleased to come back to a place they’d once called home. They’d get bored soon enough of the plain food and the cold, but it was nice to be able to understand the language and customs without any mishaps. (Not to mention actually knowing exactly **_what_** the plain food consisted of.) 

Their newest crew member was settling in nicely. They’d given her the small cabin that Raymond had used as a laboratory of sorts. That suited Kendra nicely, as it turned out that she was quite clever with her hands. She’d quickly wormed her way into the crew’s respect by being able to mend anything from clothing to tools. (She’d earned a nod and smile from Sara by firmly insisting that the owners of said clothing wash it **_before_** handing it to her for repair.) 

Transporting packets of documents from various foreign ports to Boston had earned The Canary some handsome commissions. Sara was pleased to be able to give her crew some well-earned spending money for the holidays. And in Kendra’s case, a bundle of warm clothing to replace the ridiculous assortment of cast-offs that she’d been wearing. (Still better than those horrid robes that Savage had dressed her in - all she’d possessed when she came aboard.) 

She was heading back to the ship with Len and Mick when they heard a familiar voice call out cheerfully, and the sound of running footsteps. 

“Leonard! Sara! Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas, Bartholomew!” Sara replied, waving to their friend. 

“How are you all?” the younger captain asked, puffing slightly as he shook hands with each in turn. 

“Very well...and very married,” Leonard drawled, smirking at the other man and using a tone of voice that hinted strongly at all the joys of that married state. (Not that they’d waited for that.)

“I...well...that’s wonderful!” Bartholomew stammered, turning just a bit pink at the tone.

“An’ they got a kid, too,” Mick added, grinning.

“Congratulations. Truly,” Bartholomew said, recovering admirably. “And have you heard about your sister and Tommy Merlyn?” 

“We have,” Sara replied. “We’re going to call on them when we get to Marblehead.” 

“Let’s have a pint or two and catch up now,” Bartholomew invited. “It sounds like a lot has happened.”

“We really need to get back to the ship,” Leonard replied. “The baby will want feeding soon and Sara’s the only one who can handle that.” 

“Oh...er, of course,” Bartholomew said, blushing a brilliant scarlet. The innuendo about the marriage bed had been one thing, but this, apparently, was rather too much.

“You go on,” Sara said slowly, hating the hesitance that crept into her voice. She and Leonard were two grown adults, dammit - they did not have to maintain constant contact. But after everything, she just couldn’t help...

“Are you sure?” Leonard asked, with equal reluctance. 

Sara took a deep breath. “Of course,” she answered brightly. “You’ll be with Mick and Bartholomew, and I’ll be aboard the ship. It’ll be fine.” 

“I won’t let ‘im outta my sight, Sara. You got my word,” Mick said, looking from friend to captain, reading them both as he did so well.

Bartholomew glanced from one friend’s face to another’s, too. It didn’t take much to realize there was a story here. 

“Really, it’s OK,” he said tentatively. “Some other time…”

“No,” Sara said decisively. “Leonard, Mick, you go. Enjoy. And Bartholomew, I want to hear about how you and Iris are doing, you hear me?” She smiled at him, deciding to get a slight dig of her own in. “I’d really love her to meet Michaela. Maybe that would get certain **_other_** things moving faster.”

Barry turned red again, but grinned. “Michaela? Aw, that’s perfect.” He turned to Mick, then Leonard. “OK, shall we?”

Mick chuckled, then clapped the smaller man on the back as they turned back toward the city. Len held Sara’s eyes another long moment, then nodded. 

Sara watched as they walked away, then took a deep breath and turned back toward the ship. 

They’d be fine.

* * *

Len was only half listening to Bartholomew’s account of Oliver Queen’s homecoming. He didn’t dislike the fellow, but he was still uncomfortable being apart from Sara for any length of time.

He wasn’t sure if that would ever change. Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted it to. Part of him realized that, eventually, it would have to. He took a sip of his beer, sighing to himself. 

And then a voice caught his attention from the swirl of conversation in the tavern. Just one word: Amazo. He whipped around in the direction of the voice, not even bothering to conceal his reaction. _(Clumsy,_ chided a small voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Lewis.) 

After a moment, he slipped out of his seat and edged towards the knot of swarthy sailors, listening intently. He couldn’t understand all of the words, but...Amazo. Lian Yu. Mer du Chine du Nord. 

Deep inside, a sleeping dragon, something Len usually kept quite buried, stirred. Its name was rage, and it usually reminded him of Lewis. For this once, however, he let it wake. And roar. And grow.

Mick and Bartholomew hadn’t yet noticed his distraction. And after a few...minutes? Hours?...the sailor in question stumbled towards the door, likely in search of a privy. Len slipped after him. 

The sailor was quite drunk. Len wasn’t. He easily caught up to the other man and caught his arm. The man blinked at him, and Len swung him around into the wall and followed up with a solid punch to the jaw, then a blow to the man’s stomach. The man wasn’t really bothering to fight back, and Len was so caught up in what he was doing that he didn’t notice the heavy footsteps heading his way. 

“Boss?” Mick asked, a note of concern in his voice. Casual violence wasn’t Len’s way. Rather the opposite, really.

“It’s fine, Mick. Go back inside.” The sailor tried to make a groggy and half-hearted attempt to leave, but Len kept a tight grip on him.

“It don’t look fine.” 

“This charming fellow was telling his mates all about sailing aboard a ship called the Amazo, in the North China Sea.” Len almost didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded like Lewis’. He ruthlessly pushed that thought away.

Mick swore. 

The sailor came around enough to babble desperately in some patois of which Leonard only understood every third word or so. The man was too drunk to stand up straight, but he clearly understood the threat in Leonard’s grim expression. And the beating he’d taken so far.

As if it was happening to another man, Leonard found himself pulling out a knife with his free hand. Not the ornate one he usually used for intimidation. This one was purely functional - and lethal. A gift from Sara. 

How appropriate.

Mick grabbed his arm. “Boss. Don’t do this,” he said in a low tone. “All the years I’ve known you, you ain’t never killed someone unless you had no choice.”

“Do you know what happened to Sara on that ship?” Len asked his oldest friend in a tone that was as cold as a grave. The sailor stared at him, but Len avoided his eyes. The other man wasn’t human, he decided distantly. He couldn’t have been, and served on that ship.

“I know enough,” Mick replied quietly. 

“Then you know I don’t have a choice.” 

There was a flurry of footsteps and Bartholomew was there, too, staring at the scene in front of him. There really wasn’t any way to misinterpret it.

“What? Snart, no!” he spluttered. “You always have a choice. Whatever it is you think this man has done -”

“He was part of the crew of the Amazo. He dies.” 

Bartholomew stepped up toe to toe with Leonard. “Don’t do this.” 

“Move, Bartholomew.” 

The younger (and smaller) man--who, Leonard realized distantly, probably had no idea what ‘Amazo’ meant--stood his ground stubbornly. “You are not Lewis,” he said, showing a disturbing amount of perception. “You do not solve problems like this. You have an amazing wife and a new baby who need you to be with them - not shipped off to a penal colony.” 

That sunk in. Leonard twitched, staring at him. The sailor started murmuring what was clearly a prayer.

Bartholomew stared at him earnestly. “You’re a hero, Leonard. Don’t throw that away.” 

Leonard glared at him, then abruptly released the sailor and sheathed the knife, all in one move. With a deep breath, he turned to stalk away.

Bartholomew heaved a ragged sigh of relief. Mick glanced down at the cowering sailor, who was keeping himself upright mainly by leaning against the wall, and then suddenly kicked his feet out from under him. 

As the sailor toppled, Mick added a couple of good swift kicks to the man’s midsection. Stooping quickly, the first mate rifled his pockets, and straightened and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

“Mick!” 

Mick didn’t stop his implaccable gait. “You don’t know what happened on that ship, kid.” 

 

Bartholomew didn’t argue or protest further. Mick decided that maybe the kid was OK.

* * *

Leonard entered the cabin quietly, mindful of his two (hopefully) sleeping ladies. He needn’t have bothered. Michaela was sound asleep in her cradle, but Sara was wide awake, looking...well, his bride had obviously had plans for the evening. She was wearing that delightful lawn shift, with her favorite cashmere shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair brushed out in soft, golden waves. The green wool quilt she’d finally finished was turned down invitingly on their bunk. 

“Where’ve you been?” she asked quietly. 

“Nowhere in particular,” he murmured, crossing the room to her in a few swift strides. He reached out and wrapped his arms tight around her, reassuring himself, that, yes, she was here, and safe. 

“Len?” 

She shivered, and he recollected that his coat, particularly the round pewter buttons, was chilled from the night air, and that she wasn’t wearing a great deal. He shifted them a bit, tucking her close against his chest and wrapping the coat around her. 

“Better?” 

Sara slid her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. “Mmmm…” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Are you all right?” 

“I am now.” 

Sara shivered again, and he shuffled them towards the bunk. “Get warm. I’ll join you in a moment.” 

“All right,” she replied, still looking a bit dubious. 

She curled under the quilt while he removed his coat and muffler, then sat down to unbutton his gaiters. 

“Len?” 

He sighed, knowing that he could never hide much from her, and that in this case, he shouldn’t even try. “We went to a tavern for a few rounds.” 

“I know that much. Did you get in a brawl? Without me?”

Len looked down at the floor. “We overheard a sailor talking to his mates. He used to sail aboard a ship called the Amazo.” 

Sara grew very, very still. “That ship sank, a long time ago.” 

“I know,” he replied carefully. 

“What did you do?” she asked. There was no censure in her tone, but no room for evasion, either. 

“Nothing, really.”Leonard took a deep breath. “Bartholomew reminded me that I’m not a criminal anymore.” 

“Good.” Sara’s voice was calm, definite. It surprised him, considering past history, but she’d had a lot of time to come to grips with the whole matter. More than he, in a way. And she was the one who should have the greatest say here.

“He used the word hero, which I think is overstating matters,”he said slowly. “I...I really wanted to kill that man.” 

“I know. I’m glad you didn’t.” 

Leonard looked at her with amazement. “How can you say that?” 

“Because I don’t want that death on your conscience. Because, even in that hellhole, not everyone was evil. There was a boy...a cook’s mate, I suppose.” Sara shook her head, remembering. “He never hurt me, and he’d sneak me food. I couldn’t understand what he said...I didn’t speak French at the time. He used one word a lot when he spoke to me - _soeur.”_

“Sister.” 

Sara nodded. “It was years before I realized what he had been saying. I suppose he must have had a sister back home.”

“There’s no way to know if it was the same man,” Len admitted, a bit shamefacedly. 

“Doesn’t matter. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I’m...past it. You showed mercy. It’s Christmastide, the season when we remember to be our best selves.” She held out her hand. “Come here.” 

Sara took Len’s hands in her own, carefully inspecting the damage from the evening’s activities. She raised his hands to her lips and began gently kissing the bruised and abraded flesh. 

“You **_are_** a hero, you know. You’re **_my_** hero. And hers.” 

“And you’re mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Len entered the cabin, expecting find the now-usual level of chaos. Little people, he was learning, seemed to require a great many more ‘things’ than big ones. He wasn’t disappointed. 

Michaela was situated on a quilt in a large wooden packing crate that Mick had carefully sanded down so she wouldn’t get splinters, waving her stuffed kitty. Soot was keeping her company, kneading a small felted wool ball with his paws. (Len was unsure precisely whose toy that was meant to be.) Sara was sorting a variety of items they’d collected in their travels into three piles on the tabletop. 

“What’s all this?” Len asked, looking at the collection, which seemed a little too eclectic to be all baby accoutrements.

“Gifts for our families,” Sara said with some distraction, collecting a handful of items and holding them up. “I thought these for Lisa’s family?” 

Leonard smiled at the warm red-and-gold cashmere shawl, similar to Sara’s favorite one. There was also enough very fine muslin to make a dainty cap, some tea and spices, and a magnifying lens in a wooden case. 

“That’s for Cisco,” Sara said firmly, when Len took it and held it up with an inquiring look. 

“Must we?” His tone was very dry and put-upon, but Sara smiled, shaking her head at him.

“Yes, we must,”she said firmly, with mock displeasure. “He’s your brother-in-law, and I know you like him more than you let on.” 

“I like him better when there’s an ocean between us,” Len grumbled half-heartedly, looking down at the rest of items she’d collected.

“He makes Lisa very happy,” Sara reminded him. “Mick made these for Lenora,” she added, passing him a cloth bag, which he opened curiously. 

Len smiled at the wooden farm animals, taking a beautifully carved cow from the bag and admiring the work. “He’s really very good at this.” 

But Sara seemed concerned at his reactions, watching him from the corner of her eye as if looking for something in particular.

“Is this OK?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip uncertainly. 

“Sara, this is wonderful,” he assured her, returning the wooden cow to its home. “We rarely got gifts, growing up. This is...thank you.” 

Sara slid an arm around Len’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Len thought that was a splendid idea and wrapped his arms around Sara’s waist, drawing her in closer. Before things could get too heated, Michaela started babbling happily - and loudly - reminding them of the room’s other occupant. 

Sara laughed and stepped over to lift up her daughter, planting a kiss on her nose. “You want hugs and kisses, too?” 

“She’ll have them,”Leonard promised, leaning in to drop a kiss to his daughter’s wispy golden hair. “Every day of her life.” 

 

***

Amaya entered her cabin, breathing on her hands and rubbing them together for warmth. She was happy for the others to be home, but this place was so blasted **_cold!_**

Mick, seated at the desk, made a distracted noise of greeting, and she glanced curiously at the carved pieces of wood spread out before him. 

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“Present for my Second Mate,” he answered, holding up a piece. “It’s a monkey, see? Kendra’s gonna make it so his arms an’ legs move.” 

“Clever.” Amaya moved to his side, smiling as she looked at his work.

He looked over at her, a tentative smile on his face. “An’ maybe you could paint his face?” 

“Of course. And maybe…” Amaya’s voice trailed off as she turned to rummage through her mending basket, finally coming up with a bit of scarlet cloth. “What about a vest? And maybe a little cap?” 

“That’s the ticket! I seen monkeys like that in the souk.” 

Amaya leaned down to inspect Mick’s newest creation a little better. He grinned, and pulled her into his lap, then reached around her to continue working on the toy. She looped an arm around his neck. 

“You might want to have a word with Jax about Kendra,” she said after a few moments of companionable silence. 

Mick laid his carving knife down, and looked at her in surprise. “Yer kiddin’ me, right? He’s a good lad, an’ he’s been sailing with Sara long enough -”

Amaya shook her head. “No - he’s not being improper or disrespectful - I’d have put a stop to that myself. He’s a bit smitten, is all, and I think it’s too soon for her to be dealing with another suitor. I just thought -”

“Ya want me to have the big brother chat with ‘im, is that it?” 

“Something like that.”

* * *

Mick paused in the passageway, listening to the voices (and baby giggles) emanating from the galley. 

“She really likes you,” Jax was saying. 

“Little children are born with open hearts,” Kendra replied. “They love everyone...until the world teaches them differently.” 

“My mum always said little kids and little animals were the best judges of character. If they don’t like someone, run.” 

“Your mother sounds like a very wise lady.” 

There was a slightly awkward pause, before Jax continued. “So, um...I guess this is all pretty strange to you...Christmas in the colonies.” 

There was another pause, and Mick, out in the hallway, shook his head in amusement.

“Alexandria was a very cosmopolitan port city,” Kendra explained gently after a moment. “We had Christmas. This cold, on the other hand…” 

“Do you have enough warm things?” Jax asked eagerly. “I’m sure I could find you something -”

Something about his helpfulness, though, seemed to have clued the young woman into a suspicion. Mick, still in the hallway, nodded to himself. He’d seen other woman have that same sixth sense. Self-preservation, mayhap.

“Jefferson.” Kendra’s voice was very gentle. “You’re a very fine fellow. Truly. But I came on this voyage to find out who I am. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been on my own.” She paused. “I’m not...ready...to be with someone else just yet. Do you understand?” 

“Oh. Um...of course. I didn’t mean -”

“Hey. I didn’t say never...just...not right now, OK?” 

“OK,” Jax agreed. 

A moment later, the young man exited the galley and nearly walked right into Mick. 

“Mister Rory!” he stammered, obviously wondering how much the first mate had heard. To his surprise, Mick reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Yer a good lad,” Mick told the other man. “Go about yer business.” 

“Yessir.”

* * *

**Cambridge**

When they finally arrived at the Ramon home, Lisa answered the door herself. With a noise of relief, she threw her arms around her brother, hugging him tight and burying her face in his shoulder, a gesture that startled him even as he put his arms around her in return.

“I know the letter said...but I’m so glad to see you…” she said into the lapel of his coat, tears clear in her voice. “And to know you’re OK...after everything.”

Leonard blinked, glancing back to look at Sara, who shook her head in confusion. They’d expected Michaela (who was looking around her with wide eyes) to draw the biggest reaction, but it almost seemed like Lisa...knew, just a bit, of what had happened to them over the past few years.

“We were warned,” another voice said tentatively, and Cisco stepped into the doorway too. “By letter. That someone...had been watching us. And that they’d been...eliminated, but we should be on our guard.” The inventor shrugged. “We left for a while, went to visit friends. It seemed safest.”

“Yes,” Leonard said slowly. “Yes, it certainly was. But…” He stroked Lisa’s hair, then half-turned to wave Sara forward. “...it’s in the past now. And here’s the future.”

Michaela giggled, as in agreement, and Lisa’s head jerked up, a smile blossoming over her face.

“Oh, hello, precious girl,” she said, stepping over to smile at the baby, lifting her eyes to Sara’s and then reaching out for her niece after reading the permission there. “I didn’t ever think I’d meet someone like you.”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Leonard said softly, watching his sister lift his daughter into her arms as the baby looked at her with a wondering gaze. “Lew--”

Lisa spun (making Michaela giggle again) and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare mention his name here.” There was no anger in her voice, just a steady determination. “He has nothing to do with what we, all of us, have built here. We did it despite him.”

Leonard nodded, amused at the fierceness. “You’re right. But that’s pretty much what I was going to say.”

Lisa’s chin went up. “Still.”

“Baby!” 

Sara chuckled at the word, delivered in a piping voice, and Leonard turned to see where she was looking. A little girl with curling dark hair (much darker than Lisa’s, but similar to Ramon’s….and not so different from the way Leonard’s used to look) was standing by the inventor, staring at Michaela raptly. Aside from the hair she was the spitting image of his sister as a child.

“Baby!” she said again, pointing. “Mommy, Daddy, baby!”

Leonard blinked. “Is this…”

“Come see, Lenora,” his sister said to the small girl, going to a knee in the doorway and beckoning. “This is Michaela. She’s your cousin. And oh, the trouble the two of you will be able to get into someday!”

Leonard blinked again and looked at Sara, who was watching in amusement. “She grew.”

“They do that,” Sara commented drily. “Can we get inside? It’s starting to snow.”

*

Lenora hadn’t just grown taller, of course. Leonard watched in bemusement as his niece toddled all over the comfortable house, fascinated with “baby M’kaywa!” Michaela, for her part, watched her cousin with wide eyes, and Leonard would swear she was taking notes.

“We’re going to have to start thinking about this sooner rather than later,” he murmured to Sara as Lenora pulled herself up onto a chair and tried to stand up to reach the table, leading to Lisa plucking her from it a with a good-natured scolding and setting her back on her feet. (To the little girl’s great annoyance.)  
Sara had been watching. “Safety precautions on the ship? Yes.” She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about them since I first realized I was pregnant. A baby is one thing, but a ship is not the safest place for a toddler.”

“Well, we--the whole crew--put our heads together, we can figure out how to do it if anyone can.” Leonard nodded. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

“Lenora? Of course she is.” Sara regarded him. “She looks like Lisa, doesn’t she?”

“Just like.” He smiled a little. “But her hair’s more like mine. Well. Without the gray.”

“Curls? Really?”

“Yep.”

Sara looked intrigued. “Hard to tell with Michaela, but I think she has my hair. Maybe if we have another one, she or he will get the curls.”

Leonard blinked at her. Sara smirked at him. “Oh, don’t look like that. There’s not one on the way. Unlike the Ramons.”

He darted a look at his sister. She looked as slim as he remembered, but… “Really?”

“Really.”

*

Lisa received the shawl with great appreciation, wrapping it around her shoulders immediately. Cisco had been just as appreciative of the magnifying glass--more, even--and started talking about how useful it would be in his work. He then started regaling Leonard with tales of that work, which the older man accepted with a long-suffering expression that Ramon apparently missed.

Sara, hiding her smile, went down on her knees in front of Lenora, who put her fingers in her mouth and studied her in return.

Lisa joined them. “Lenora, this is your Auntie Sara,” she said. “Say hello?”

Lenora gave the idea a few moments consideration. “H’wo, Auntie Sara,” she said solemnly after the pause.

“Hello, Lenora,” Sara said, just as solemnly. “We have something for you.” After a nod of permission from Lisa, she held the bag of carved farm animals, tied with a festive red satin ribbon, out to the small girl.

Lenora needed a little help with that ribbon (Lisa tucked it away carefully, and Sara nodded: it would look magnificent with Lenora’s hair), but once she got the bag open, the squeal of delight made them all laugh (even Michaela, who had no idea what was going on). Even Cisco left off his earnest explanation and came over to see what had caused it.

This house already had far more joy in it then Leonard could ever remember in the Snart household. He’d tried to do the best he could to make Lisa’s life a little better, but...there was only so much he could do to counter Lewis.

This...the laughter of happy children, a warm and comfortable home, the adoring way Cisco looked at Lisa and she at him...well, it didn’t make up for that lousy childhood, Leonard thought, watching.

But it sure as hell helped.

* * *

The visit was over far too soon, the Snart family (Leonard still shook his head over that phrase) heading back to the ship with promises to visit again as soon as possible. (“Before this one is as old as Lenora,” Lisa said slyly, placing a hand on her stomach. “And these girls need to grow up together, a little bit, anyway!”)

Michaela fell asleep on the way back, her head pillowed on Leonard’s shoulder, still wrapped cozily in her blanket (although Sara now carried in their belongings a small, Michaela-sized red cape, a gift from the Ramons). She was tired enough that she didn’t twitch as Sara took her and put her gently down in her cradle. 

Then she returned to their bed, sitting down with a sigh and smiling at her husband, who was still watching their sleeping daughter.

“That,” she said, “was fun.”

“It was.”

“She’s happy, Len,” Sara murmured, watching him, guessing correctly some of what was going through his head. “Truly happy.”  
“I know.” He turned away, crossing back to the bunk...and then picking her up and swinging her around, earning a laugh that she quickly stifled, trying not to wake the baby. “And so am I.”

And then he proceeded to show her just how happy he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Not so long later, the Canary was sailing up the coast to Marblehead, and December in New England was making its presence known in the form of bitingly cold winds. 

“And that there’s the topsail, Second Mate,” Mick informed Michaela, who was wrapped up snuggly in a packbasket on his back. 

“Mick! It’s too cold for her up here!” Amaya scolded. The bo’sun was wrapped up in every layer she owned, and possibly some of Mick’s as well. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s asleep,” Jax added, craning his head to look.

Mick huffed. “Fine. We’ll go inspect the cargo hold,” he replied grumpily, turning away.

“Hey, isn’t it awfully cold up top for her?” Sara, passing them, asked as Mick climbed down the steps. 

“So I been told. We’re going to go check out the cargo hold.” 

Sara shook her head, turning to follow them a moment. “She’s sleeping,” she told him, lightly touching the baby’s face to be sure she wasn’t too chilled. “You could just put her in her cradle.” 

“I don’t mind the company. Besides,” the big man lowered his voice conspiratorially, “me an’ the perfessor have an arrangement. If I’ve got the little ‘un, that’s one less excuse for the big ‘un to skip out of her lessons.” 

Sara chuckled a bit at that. “That sounds like a good plan, although she seems a bit more focused lately.” 

“Whatever the perfessor got for her at that bookseller in Cambridge, I can’t seem to tear her away for her chores.” 

“Well, I certainly don’t want to discourage her learning, but I’ll have a word.” 

“Eh. It’s Christmas,” the big man shrugged. “Let ‘er go. Time enough later for chores and such.”

* * *

**Marblehead, Massachusetts Bay Colony**

 

Len raised an eyebrow when Sara chose her new silk to wear ashore. “Isn’t that a bit ostentatious for home?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. He didn’t care, of course, but Sara usually hated ostentation, rather to the extreme.

Sara bit her lip, though, looking down at the dress. “We’re going to the Merlyn mansion, remember? It’s a bit easier to get through their staff if you dress the part. Besides, it’s easier to lace than my old gowns. I’m still a bit -” She glanced down and frowned. Laurel had always been so willowy...

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her firmly. 

She favored him with a rueful half smile, and Len decided to up his game. 

He wrapped both arms around her waist and gave a gentle squeeze, then let his hands do a bit of wandering. “You are the most perfectly beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on,” he informed her, dropping a kiss behind her ear. 

“You’re hardly an impartial observer.” Sara was smiling again, though, so he counted it a win.

“So?” 

His wife made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I need to dress, Len,” she reminded him a few moments later. 

“But this is **_so_** much more fun!”

***

They were - finally - nearly ready to go. 

Len had carefully dressed Michaela in the beautiful dress that Anna Palmer had made for her, and set out the cozy red wool cape from Lisa. 

“Someday, you’ll be as pretty as your mama, and it’ll take you all day to get dressed, too,” he teased the baby, who stared at her father with wide eyes.

“Your father is nowhere near as amusing as he thinks he is,” Sara shot back, just as she finished fixing her hair. She hadn’t taken that long. She thought.

Michaela gurgled happily in response and kicked her little feet. Her father grinned at her and though she had no idea what he was saying, she loved the attention.

Still smiling, Len looked back at Sara. Then he tilted his head. “No necklace?” he asked, realizing that he hadn’t seen Sara’s little blue glass pendant lately. 

“Someone takes after her daddy in more ways than one...she grabs at bright and shiny objects.” Sara shook her head, torn between amusement and resignation. Well, at least the **_baby_** would grow out of it.

“I can’t help it if my daughter has an eye for the finer things in life,” Len shot back, then turned around, obviously looking for something. “Speaking of which, have you seen my watch?

Sara turned and held it out to him, and even as he reached for it, he stilled, seeing something new on the chain - a tiny scarab, fashioned of gold and lapis lazuli. 

“This is beautiful,” Len said quietly, studying the lovely little thing.

“Souvenir of our honeymoon.” 

After a moment, he smiled mischievously and reached for her. “A gift like this deserves a proper thank you,” he all but purred. 

Laughing, Sara stepped out of reach. “Later.”

* * *

Tommy Merlyn looked up from his paperwork, and Laurel from her embroidery, as the butler opened the parlor door. 

“Master Leonard Snart, Mistress Snart, and Miss Snart,” the man intoned, ushering the guests inside. 

“Sara!” Laurel cried, after a moment’s shocked silence. She flew across the room and enveloped her sister and niece in a strong embrace. “You’re chilled!” she exclaimed, wrapping her own shawl around her sister’s shoulders and leading her to the divan closest to the fireplace. 

Tommy and Len, left standing near the door, both smiled in bemusement. 

“Welcome to our home,” Tommy said, offering his hand. “Let’s get you something warm to drink. I recall you have a preference for chocolate?” 

“If it’s no trouble.” 

The butler nodded discreetly and stepped out of the room. 

Tommy smiled at the ladies, cooing and fawning over the baby. “It seems that congratulations are in order.” 

“And to you.” 

Laurel took the baby on her lap as soon as they were seated, and Michaela immediately reached for the gold locket that her aunt wore. 

“No, no, sweetling,” Sara murmured, trying to pry surprisingly strong fingers away. 

“Tommy,” Laurel said beseechingly, although not without some amusement.

Her husband, smiling, stepped behind her, untied the ribbon, and pocketed the necklace--after a brief tussle with a very determined infant. 

Michaela, no less stubborn than her parents, started to fuss, until Len produced her stuffed kitty from his own pocket. She snatched it from his hand - and promptly began chewing on its head. 

“I’m sorry,” both sisters said at the same time. 

“She reaches for anything pretty,” Sara apologized. 

“Well, of course she does! It’s just that locket belonged to Tommy’s mother.” Laurel nodded to a portrait hanging over the mantle. “It might be a little fragile.”

“I expect I grabbed it a few times, myself, when I was that age,” Tommy added with good grace. “It’s a wonder that it’s still around!”

***

Len was holding Michaela, trying to keep her from sticking her hands in his cup of chocolate, while the sisters exchanged gifts. He hated the slight tension in the way Sara held herself, as if she was unsure of the reception of the gifts she’d chosen so carefully. Fortunately, it seemed that marriage agreed with Laurel, and she exclaimed delightedly at the blue and green silk ribbons, carved ivory thimble, and intricate piece of French lace that Sara gave her. 

Laurel handed her sister a basket. “Mum and I knitted stockings for all of you. We weren’t sure what would really be useful…”

Sara smiled as she fingered the soft, warm Merino wool, then surged forward and engulfed her sister in a heartfelt, if rather unladylike, hug. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Leonard said. “It does get cold at times aboard ship.” 

“The blue ones are for you, and the striped ones are for Sara and that little cabin girl - why didn’t you bring her?” 

Sara grinned, finally truly relaxing for the first time since they’d entered the house. “The professor took her to a bookseller in Cambridge and she hasn’t come up for air yet.” 

Laurel adopted a mock-stern expression as she crossed the room to Len and the baby. “Despite your **_terrible_** correspondence habits, I did manage hear that I was going to be an auntie, so I made this.” 

She held out a beautifully stitched cloth dolly. Michaela stared at her with enormous eyes for a moment, then reached out and took the proffered toy with a drooly smile. Laurel leaned forward and kissed the baby’s head. 

“Wait until Mum and Dad meet you,” she added. “Oh, yes. They’re going to be so very glad to meet you.”

“We were planning to call on them tomorrow,” Len said in response. (Michaela merely squealed.)

“Tommy? Couldn’t we all go together?” Laurel asked, turning to her husband.

“Yes, of course,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “We’ll take one of the carriages. And we’ll call for you at the docks, so you needn’t take the little one too far in the cold.” 

“Much appreciated,” Len replied, carefully shifting his daughter in his arms and catching the doll as she dropped it.

Tommy observed him cuddling Michaela on his lap with a thoughtful expression. Leonard noticed…but said nothing. For the moment.

***

Eventually, the sisters retired to Laurel’s dressing room to tend to the baby. Tommy crossed to the sideboard, poured two snifters of brandy, and offered one to his brother-in-law. 

“I do believe those are the three loveliest ladies in the world, and you and I, the two luckiest gentlemen,” Tommy offered, raising his glass. 

“No argument from me,” Len agreed, raising his glass in return. He sampled the contents and made an appreciative sound. 

The other man hesitated a moment, then nodded to himself. “I’d like to talk to you a bit, while the ladies are occupied, if you don’t mind. I know it’s not the way you and Sara do things, but I do try to protect Laurel when I can.” 

“Well, Laurel and Sara are two very different women,” Len replied blandly, deciding that keeping his opinions to himself was the wiser course of action just then. 

“What can you tell me of my father?” Tommy asked. “Is he still alive?” 

Truth seemed best. “I don’t know,” Leonard replied honestly. “He got on the wrong side of some...formidable people. Saving me was incidental for them. And they didn’t let me in on their plans.” 

“My father did many terrible things.” Tommy shook his head, eyes melancholy. “Some were made worse because he said he was doing them for my mother. I miss her dearly, God rest her soul, but consorting with evil men could never bring her back. Nor would she wish it. 

“My mother...I don’t recall many details; she died when I was a little boy,” he added. “But what I do remember, and what other people have told me, is that she was a good, kind, and generous soul, who would have been appalled by what my father did in her name.” 

“I’ve heard Sara speak fondly of your mother. She says you take after her.” 

“That’s very kind.” A pained expression crossed Tommy’s face. “Oliver told me some of what was going on. I don’t want Laurel to know that my own father set an assassin on us.” 

“That’s your choice, of course,” Leonard replied. He couldn’t imagine keeping Sara in the dark like that, himself.

“And I am so sorry for what he did to you.” 

“That’s not on you,” Leonard said firmly. 

However, Len noticed Tommy was still looking at him a bit...oddly. Glancing down quickly, he saw Michaela’s stuffed kitty sticking out of his pocket. “Hazards of fatherhood,” he chuckled, securing the cherished toy deeper into his pocket. 

“Of course. I guess I’m just not used to seeing a gentleman take so...active...a role with a baby.” 

Leonard rather clearly heard the unspoken “especially a girl.” He sensed that there was a reason behind Tommy’s prying, and decided, once again, that honesty seemed the best policy. He rather hoped that trend would stop. Soon. 

“She’s my child. Why shouldn’t I take care of her?” he asked, uncertain if he’d managed to keep all the irritation out of his voice. He’d just about raised Lisa, after all. It wasn’t like he was incompetent at the business. Or was it just that a small girl was supposed to less valuable than a male?

Or an heir. But given that he could very well see Michaela captaining the Canary some day, say, after her parents retired, she was all the heir they needed. The thought made him smile a little.

“Of course,” Tommy repeated. “Laurel and I are hoping to have one of our own, eventually. It’s just...,” He gave Leonard a helpless look, and the other man sighed inwardly. “I don’t really know how to be a father. My own was rather...distant. He always made sure I was properly looked after, fine clothing, all the best schools. But he was never around.”

Tommy shrugged. “It was Oliver’s father who took me aside occasionally and explained all those little things that boys need to know.” 

“To be fair, my own father was hardly a good example,” Len replied carefully, amused at the irony of someone asking him for parenting advice. “I suppose I’m trying to be, to Michaela, what I wish my sister and I could have had. If that makes sense.” 

“It does, rather.” Tommy took a gulp of his brandy. “I suspect my father would be appalled by this conversation.” 

Len shrugged. “So would mine. I generally take that to be a sign that I’m doing the right thing.”

***

Laurel carefully helped Sara readjust her gown. “This is so lovely!” she said, tone full of admiration. “And it suits you so well.”

“Len chose it.” Sara smiled a little, thinking of earlier conversations. “He has a good eye.”

“He has an eye for beautiful things...like you,” Laurel teased gently, with a sly smile. 

“I could say the same for Tommy,” Sara returned, nudging her sister in the ribs. 

“I wish you could have been here for the wedding,” Laurel confided. “It was so beautiful! Like something out of a fairy tale.” 

“I’m glad,” Sara said sincerely, “you deserve it. You got everything you ever wished for - the handsome prince who treats you like a princess, the beautiful house, all of it.” 

Laurel gave her a slightly hesitant look. “And what about you?” 

Sara glanced back at her sleeping daughter. “I got everything I never knew I wanted.” 

Laurel eyed her speculatively, and Sara braced herself for comments about her curves, or lack of cap. 

“You know, you could wear a more stylish hairstyle with that gown,” her sister commented instead. “Want to do your hair before dinner?” 

***

Tommy smiled as the ladies joined them in the dining room a bit later than expected. “See what happens when you leave beautiful women in a room with looking glasses?” he teased. 

“They devise ways to make themselves even more beautiful,” Len replied, smiling appreciatively at his wife. 

An elderly housemaid wearing a wonderfully ruffled and ribboned cap stepped forward. “Shall I look after little miss during dinner?” 

Sara gave the baby a gentle bounce. It **_would_** be nice to eat like a proper grown up for a change...and she **_was_** wearing her best dress. “What do you think? Would you like to go with this nice lady for a bit?” she asked her daughter mock-seriously, holding her out toward the woman to see what the reception would be.

Michaela giggled and batted at the ruffles on the maid’s cap. 

“Sorry,” Sara murmured. 

“‘Tis no bother, madam,” the maid replied, taking Michaela into her capable arms. “Do you like applesauce, missy?” 

“She does indeed,” Leonard confirmed. “Sometimes, she even gets it into her mouth.” 

“Well then, we’ll have to take great care for your pretty frock, won’t we?” 

“Martha was my mother’s maid,” Tommy explained, after they left the room. “She keeps hinting about how lovely it will be to have a little one running about the place.” 

“We haven’t quite got to the running stage yet,” Sara laughed. 

“If she’s anything like you, it won’t be much longer,” Laurel teased. “I remember Mum sewing leading strings to all of your dresses.” 

“And I remember Daddy saying he wished she’d never taken them off.” 

Sara’s eyes were shadowed with remembered pain as she said that, and Len decided it was time to reassert the Christmas spirit...even if it was at his own expense. 

“I must confess to feeling a certain kinship with your father,” Len admitted drily, raising his glass, “now that I know what it’s like to have a beautiful daughter.” 

“I think you’re safe for a couple of years yet,” Tommy chuckled, “though I do agree she’s a little beauty.”

* * *

Dinah Lance looked up from her sewing at the sound of horses outside the house. Quentin got to his feet to look out the window. 

“It’s one of the Merlyn carriages,” he announced, letting the curtain drop back into place. 

Dinah immediately scrambled to her feet, patting her hair and shaking out her skirts. “Quentin, fix your collar.” 

“Dinah, you look fine. There’s no need to fuss because our kids have come to call.” 

“You don’t know that it’s Laurel and Tommy. It could be his father. Not that anyone’s seen him in months, but still -” 

“An’ it’s my house,”Quentin replied obstinately. “If he don’t like the way we dress in our own home, he can talk to me at church on Sunday.” 

He strode to the door and opened it to see his daughter - just not the one he’d been expecting. 

“Happy Christmas, Daddy,” Sara said. 

Quentin’s mouth fell open in shock at the sight of his younger daughter, standing on his doorstep, chewing her lip as if questioning her reception. (As if there could ever be any doubt.) She looked...beautiful, and happy, and...there was a sapphire ring that he didn’t recognise sparkling on her hand--and an adorable baby balanced on her hip. 

Dinah paused in her bustling about to call to her husband. “Quentin, is it Laurel? Let them in, for goodness sake!” 

After a moment, he remembered to breathe. And to smile, waking an answering smile on his daughter’s face. 

“Come here, honey,” he called, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. “There’s someone here you’ve just got to meet!” 

***

Quentin wriggled his hands into the fingerless shooting gloves Sara had knit for him. There appeared to be two of the same, instead of one left and one right. 

“You should see the ones I got,” Len leaned over to mutter to his father-in-law. (Sara heard anyway and swatted at him.)

Quentin finally succeeded in settling the gloves onto his hands. “Don’t care,” he said, smiling. “My baby girl made them for me. They’re perfect.” 

Dinah Lance, meanwhile, was in her glory, cuddling her granddaughter on her lap. “I suppose, now that you have the baby, you’ll be settling down?” she said hopefully, looking up at her daughter. “Get a proper home here in town?” 

Sara cast a somewhat distressed glance at Len, who smoothly adapted his blandest expression. It was her mother, after all. But surprisingly, it was Laurel who spoke up. 

“No, Mum,” she said patiently. “They’re going to raise their daughter in their home, and that’s The Canary.” 

“But darling, what about her education?” Dinah, concern in her voice, looked down at Michaela, who blew a prompt raspberry, as if to say just what she thought of her grandmother’s idea of proper schooling.

“Isn’t your ship’s surgeon a rather accomplished gentleman scholar?” Tommy interjected smoothly, looking at Leonard.

“He is,” Leonard confirmed, smiling to himself at the unexpected backup. 

“There, you see? They got it covered,” Quentin said, getting to his feet and crossing to admire his granddaughter, who gurgled happily and lifted her arms to him. (After a startled moment, he obediently picked her up, bouncing her a little awkwardly.)

“But what of she wants a more...conventional life?” Dinah asked, a little hopelessly as she realized just how outnumbered she was.

“If that’s what she decides that she wants, then we’ll see that she gets it,” Leonard promised, privately finding the idea profoundly unlikely.

“And we’ll help,” Laurel added, smiling at her brother-in-law in a way that suggested she agreed.

“But -”

“Leave them be, Dinah,” Quentin told her. “Both our girls are happy, an’ that’s all I ever wanted.” He gave his younger daughter a slightly plaintive look, though, as Michaela babbled happily at him. “Just...don’t stay away too long, all right? I’d like to watch this one grow up.” 

“We’ll make a point to visit as often as we can,” Len assured him. 

“And write!” Dinah admonished them.

* * *

Later, Sara was sitting on the floor next to the cradle with a dreamy smile on her face, and one hand resting lightly on her daughter’s slumbering form. Len entered the cabin very quietly, fervently hoping that Michaela was sleeping after the excitement of the day. He set a mug of Sara’s favorite tea on the desk, and held out his hand to help her to her feet. 

She accepted it with a smile, a smile that grew as he pulled her down with him onto their bunk, arranging them comfortably together.

“It was a lovely Christmas,” she murmured, leaning back against his chest. 

“It was, indeed,” Len replied, wrapping his arms around her. 

“You know, I always understood you were a jewel thief, not a smuggler,” she teased, tilting her head back to get a better look at his expression. “You just keep surprising me.”

“Well, the two **_are_** somewhat related,” he drawled, smirking down at her. “And I didn’t think you’d mind in this case.”

“I never even knew you had that teacup for my mum.” Sara shook her head. “It was perfect. How did you know?”

He shrugged slightly. “I saw it in a market and it just looked like something a mother would appreciate. Since I don’t have one of my own, I thought it might be a good idea to have yours on my side.” 

“Well, you certainly charmed her. I suppose I ought to thank you for that,” Sara added mischievously, turning in Len’s embrace and twining her arms around his neck. 

He smirked at her a little more, hands moving to her waist. “And I seem to recall owing you a token of my vast esteem and appreciation for the very lovely gift you bestowed upon me.”

Sara’s smile turned sultry. “Do you, now? It’s never a good idea to be indebted to a pirate. You never know what she might...demand...in tribute.” 

“And have you any demands to make, Captain?” His voice was low and intense...and then muffled as he ducked his head to brush his lips along her neck, earning a contented purr in return.

“Mmmm.” Sara settled herself a little more comfortably against him, then started working at the buttons of his shirt. “How about we get these clothes off and I’ll...give that tribute a little more thought…”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”


End file.
